


Spooky Cold Medina

by ImaniJoain



Series: Unlikely Singularities [36]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bucky's Headcannon, F/M, Halloween, Inappropriate Costumes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-11-27 02:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20940527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain
Summary: Halloween can be a sugar-fueled, laughing race through the darkness or a moan and bump in the night. Although Darcy and Evelyn have strong preferences for one over the other, first they have to contend with party planning, maintaining trick-or-treat safety, and ensuring Bucky and Steve experience the true meaning of the holiday.Also, Bucky may or may not have a weird thing for Sarah Connor.Takes place 10/31/2017.





	1. Knock, Knock

**Author's Note:**

> So many of you contributed to this little dip into holiday cheer for Unlikely Singularities. Thank you so much for commenting and for making suggesting, stirring up my imagination, and taking this ride with me.

**October 31, 2017**

“What are you supposed to be?” Darcy held the door open, but did not move out of the way. Her stomach, grotesquely covered in a blood-stained shirt with doll arms attached as though they were ripping their way out of her body, blocked the entrance.

Evie sighed. She had a feeling she would be getting that a lot. “It’s a couple’s costume.”

Darcy looked over her glasses in disbelief. “For some reason, I did not think of you as a couple’s costume person.”

“It wasn’t my idea.”

“I can imagine. So, where is he?”

Evie pointed her thumb over her shoulder to the sidewalk behind her. Darcy stepped forward to get a better look, and Evie obligingly moved aside, turning to take in the scene herself. James was helping Maria out of the Stark Industries town car. The girl looked amazing, dressed in a child-size three piece suit, toupee, and over-large American flag pin. It was easily the best politician costume Evie had ever seen. Also the only one. Darcy sucked air in loudly as she got the full impact of James’ ensemble.

“Oh. My. God.”

“I know.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know.”

“This is the greatest thing. Ever.”

Evie tried to school her smirk and failed miserably. “I know.”

“Has Sam seen this? Tell me he saw this.”

“Not yet. He’s coming over with Tony.”

“That’s even better. I can get a picture of his face when he sees this. Oh man, this is fantastic. I didn’t even know he had seen those movies.”

“I almost regret introducing him.” Evie caught the red twinkle of the contact lens in James’ right eye and didn’t bother suppressing her grin. “Almost.” As he and Maria joined them on the stoop, his bare metal arm brushed against her back. Even through her denim jacket she shivered at the chill.

“Hey, that’s Braddox’s mom’s car! Come on, Barnes. I want a picture with him before we go.” Maria jumped down the steps, meeting a tall, round cheeked boy as he hopped out of a Jaguar. Where he had found a copy of Cher’s mowhawk costume in his size, Evie had no idea. How he had fit it into the sports car was a greater mystery. His mother stepped out to meet Steve as the soldier came down the sidewalk, his arms laden with grocery bags.

“You still good to go with them?” Darcy asked James even as she tucked a king-size Snickers into his jacket pocket. _Four hundred forty calories. He ate pasta an hour ago, it should tide him over for a while._ His black tac armor was open at the front, displaying his bare chest. Evie was glad that he had decided waxing and oiling was a look best left to Schwarzenegger. Aside from the unnecessary pain to him and the grease that would get on their clothes, she rather liked his pectorals the way the were.

“Yeah.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Evie’s ear. His voice dropped an octave. “I’ll be back.”

“If you’re going to keep that up,” she laughed, “you can stay away.”

“Remember – no consumption of deliciousness or those disgusting peanut butter chew things until it all comes back here and we can check it,” Darcy reminded James as if he wasn’t far more paranoid than she could ever be. “Tony’s bringing an X-ray.”

_Or not._

James squeezed Evie’s side and then left with the two middle-schoolers, off to trick or treat through Steve and Darcy’s neighborhood. A pack of kids ranging from twelve to six, and two pre-schoolers with a bored-looking teenage babysitter, collected their bribe from Darcy and then followed James toward the next stoop.

Maria had been mortified when her dad wanted to escort her, completely horrified at his alternate suggestion of a security detail, but had compromised on Sergeant Barnes – if he could manage to come up with a suitably not-lame costume. He had decided on the Terminator all on his own. He had also insisted, most definitely on his own, that Evie should dress as Sarah Connor. Evie couldn’t decide if it was endearing or simply weird that he had announced mid-way through _Terminator 2_ that Sarah and Arnold should have gotten together. Her relic of a boyfriend, she had quickly discovered, was both a sci-fi fan and a romantic.

She hadn’t told James about the most recent installment in the franchise. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see him pout.

“So,” Darcy said as she turned to head back into the house. One of the doll arms brushed against Evie’s bare wrist. It had a disturbingly life-like texture and flexibility. “Steve has the last of the supplies, and most everything is set up for the party in the backyard. No one is supposed to show up for another hour – but I can guarantee at least two of our neighbors will get here early wanting to help and/or corral their children in a safe, sugar-rich environment while they slam a spritzer. Think you can help me with the non-fun punch and finishing up some of the hot hors d’oeuvres?”

“Steve left you in charge of the kitchen?” Evie followed Darcy’s lead and picked up a stray running shoe and some abandoned, leftover decorations as they headed for the kitchen at the back of the house.

“Yeah – it was a real sticky wicket for him.” Darcy snorted, setting a dirty smoothie bottle in the sink and dropping her load of a sweatshirt, sock, and earbuds in a basket next to the kitchen table. Evie left her items there as well, ready to be carted back to their proper places later. She tossed a small overnight bag onto the bench seat. “Steve doesn’t totally trust me with food that requires more than a toaster – justifiably. But he really didn’t want me lifting anything heavy in the yard,” she waved absently at the wall of glass that separated the kitchen from a wide balcony and stairs down to the landscaped courtyard. Evie could make out a pinata, a baby pool filled with what was probably apples, a ring toss game with witches’ hats, and not one but two tables for food and drink.

“You guys really went all out.” Evie didn’t try to suppress a teasing smile.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. He’s been reading stuff online again. The Martha Stewart website was fine – a little crafty for me, but whatever tickles your pickle, ya know? But then he got into this idea of modern neighborhoods and crafting a sense of place and community through social engagement and was powerless to stop him. It was like he got this hopeful look in his eyes and started talking about how important it was to him that our tumescent growth have a wide support structure and he got a little choked up talking about his old neighborhood. There was a tear in his eye, Evie.” Darcy grabbed Evie’s arm, ignoring the soft but insistent beeping of a timer. “A fucking tear. I couldn’t take it. I blame the hormones. That and his impassioned defense of the intersection of residential place-making and sociological needs. I helped hand-deliver invitations to the entire block. _Hand-delivered_. He custom illustrated each one, Evie. With like, little bats and cauldrons and shit – tailored to the age of neighbors’ kids if they had ‘em. And I was totally prepared to console him when the usual New York allergy to kitsch and earnest friendliness was brushed off, but...”

Darcy lowered her voice, leaning back against the counter to peer down the hallway and make certain they were alone.

Evie took the opportunity to check the oven. In one side there were two trays of gnarled, finger-shaped pretzels with sliced almond fingernails and coarse salt knuckle hair that were a buttery golden brown and ready to come out. The other side had miniature pigs in a blanket and a hot dip that smelled like roasted garlic and brie. The breading around each little smokie looked like mummy wrappings.

“And I wouldn’t lie about this, Evie,” Darcy continued. “They took one look at those adorable little bat drawings and his big smile and they melted. Goddamn melted at _Mr. Rogers from down the block_. Half of them didn’t even recognize him. Just agreed to show up and asked if they could bring anything. I feel one hundred percent confident we are going to end up with a minimum of two leftover deli trays and a box of gourmet pastries. And now someone is going to invite us to an ugly sweater Christmas party. I just know it. Unreal.”

The front door opened and closed as Evie scooped pretzel witch’s fingers into a waiting bread basket. Steve was whistling as he entered the kitchen carrying what had to be a metric ton of apples and Darcy’s body-weight in candy. He also had a sucker in his mouth.

“Treats are for the kids, handsome.” Darcy pulled the bright red tootsie pop from his mouth and promptly jammed it in her own. Steve grinned and Evie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Some of us are young at heart, Halloween-grinch. But I’ll settle for a grown-up treat later?”

“Ugh. You’re too hot to be this bad at the jokes and innuendos. Or so hot I’ll tolerate your bad jokage?” Darcy looked honestly contemplative.

“Jury can decide later,” Evie interjected before the two got sidetracked with their own ridiculous, near-constant form of foreplay. She made a mental note to tell James about it just to watch him groan – and then benefit from his own brand of foreplay. “What else can I do to help, Steve? Do you have another timer for the dip?”

The next hour passed in a whirl of steaming cider, trays of hot and cold, salty and sugary snacks, and predictably early guests. Everyone exclaimed over the food, seemed to genuinely enjoy the décor, and offered Darcy hesitant congratulations on the baby that appeared to be half-way finished clawing out of her belly. Most of the adults had some attempt at a costume, and many didn’t seem to realize exactly who Steve Rogers, dressed as Popeye, and his pregnant girlfriend were. Evie almost choked on a mouthful of pumpkin cream cheese cupcake when a Satan who needed to consider aerobic activity for heart health accidentally spilled beer on Steve’s arm. He mopped up the running anchor tattoo with a paper napkin and an apology that quickly died as he realized that not only was the muscle real, but the woman offering him the napkin was Pepper Potts in a sailor costume. Not a sexy sailor, a U.S. Naval Officer. His mouth had fallen open and his pitchfork fell to the ground. His eyes ping-ponged from Lt. Potts to Popeye Steve.

“You’re Captain fucking America,” he had gasped out. Thankfully, the combination of music, conversation, and happily shrieking kids kept anyone but the closest adults from hearing.

“Only when I’m in uniform,” Steve had answered with a smile. “And you should know I don’t like it when people fuck with America, son.”

That was when Evie had nearly died by asphyxiation on perfectly moist cake.

Paunchy Satan had stared for a moment before laughing, then entered into a pleasant and fairly normal-sounding conversation with Pepper and Steve regarding the state of Steve’s dormant apple tree. Apparently Satan was a landscaper. _Who knew?_ Evie excused herself to get another cider to wash down the cupcake still threatening her esophagus.

James, Maria, and Braxton returned after another hour loaded down with their haul and trailed by several other children as Evie served herself a new drink. Maria and Braxton were guiding a shark that looked about eight and was having trouble seeing past all of his felt teeth. James was holding a little girl in his left arm. Evie guessed she was a three to five year old princess/ninja/robot. One bare foot dangled below James’ exposed metal arm. Ripped black karate pants revealed a superficial scrape on her leg. James had a small, electric pink shoe with a broken strap tucked into the breast pocket of his jacket. The girl’s face was streaked with tears, but she was talking animatedly and directly into his ear. His expression gave no indication that her loud, high-pitched description was hurting his sensitive hearing as he nodded soberly, kept an eye on all the kids, and scanned the area for threats.

Princess Ninja-Robot squealed when she caught sight of her father. Once the man had been assured his daughter wasn’t seriously hurt – just a skinned knee, he had firmly grasped James’ hand and insisted on introducing him to the girl’s other dad.

Soft surprise at being so easily accepted flitted across James’ face.

Evie had to turn away until she could get her pulse under control. It took several minutes of stern reminders that it wasn’t her place to fix every hurt James had ever suffered before the hard thud of her heart calmed down. Deep breaths made it easier to smile and return to the party, but Evie’s internal mantra hadn’t been very convincing. It had all happened so easily, so naturally. In three short months she had moved from professional distance to sharing nearly everything that she was with him. It would have been terrifying if she wasn’t ninety percent certain that he was right there with her. He had murmured to her in his sleep for the third time that week, promising he loved her again.

She wasn’t quite ready to say it in broad daylight, and she didn’t think it was fair to call him on something that he had only ever spoken in his dreams. But the next time it happened – in the safe darkness of his bedroom – she thought she _might_ whisper back.


	2. Ding, Dong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the recent weirdness in posting format. Not sure exactly how I did it, but chapters from Spooky, Cold Medina got interspersed with Troublemaker. I think it is all sorted out now, but let me know if you see anything that needs fixed!

**October 31, 2017**

"Could you please not do that here?"

"What?" Barnes turned his eyes away from Evelyn to scowl at his best friend.

Steve had a look of amused disgust on his big, stupid face. Barnes hated that look. It was _knowing_. It knew _things_. Things that maybe Barnes also knew. Maybe things he remembered in a hazy way. Maybe things Barnes wasn’t ready to think about. He would rather stand on the edges of the party and enjoy the sight of beautiful women, friends relaxing, and the happy, excited chatter of kids he didn’t have to try to bring down from their sugar high.

He would rather stab a toothpick through his flesh hand than think about it.

“If it was possible to make a person, ah,” Steve glanced around, mindful of the children that were mostly ignoring them, “_finish_ using only your dirty imagination, then – trust me, pal – Darcy would have figured it out by now. You aren’t gonna get Evie there with just the sex appeal oozin’ outta your face no matter how many dishy dames fell for it back in the day.”

“Shut your-” Barnes growled, but cut himself off when three wild-eyed fourth graders demanded, loudly but politely, more hot chocolate, “-trap door, Stevie. I can feel the hot air over here.” The kids giggled and added orange-striped stick candy to their cups before zooming off. “And lay off about whatever...dames...” He continued in a low, stern voice,” ...there mighta’ been back then. Don’t remember most of ‘em anyhow.”

Steve took a sip of spiked cider and gazed out over the crowd in his backyard. Except for a ring on his girl’s finger, Barnes figured Steve had everything he had ever wanted in life. _Turned__ him into a real nosy __sort of__ asshole_. Steve deserved this life, Barnes would kill anyone who tried to take this from his friend, but it didn’t make him any less of an insufferable, smug, know-it-all. Abruptly, Steve changed tactics.

"You remember when that chocolate cake fell outta Mr. Palowicki's delivery truck? And the box was kinda smashed but it still looked like heaven and smelled like an angel? And you just about jumped into it mouth first? We were, I dunno, thirteen?"

"Maybe," Barnes hedged. He didn't recall the exact scenario, but he thought he knew where this was going and he wasn't impressed.

"I told you we had ‘ta return it, and when we did you gave Mrs. Palowicki _that_ _look_ and 'accidentally' dumped water on me. Made my shirt stick to my ribs. I had ‘ta endure twenty minutes of ‘you poor thing’ and offers of a blanket and questions about my health and when I’d last been to confession. She gave us the whole cake and a half-dozen biscuits. We ate cake on the way home - so much we both got stomach aches and you traded me your half of the biscuits to keep the last slice."

Barnes looked from Steve - Steve and his big, stupid, knowing mug - to Evelyn. Evelyn who was bending over the baby pool full of bobbing apples to hold back Maria's hair. Evelyn with her tight jeans, denim jacket, and thin tank top that had been splashed with water and pumpkin-scented confetti. Evelyn with her half-smirk crooking glossy pink lips and dry commentary keeping Braxton laughing so hard he almost lost his feather head dress. Evelyn who had a side in his bed and a pot of cinnamon sugar-scrub in his shower. Evelyn who tasted like the best thing he had ever eaten.

Dubiously obtained chocolate cake included.

"Steve," Barnes warned, pushing away from the drink station the two men had been put in charge of during the Halloween party, "I hope Stark shelled out for the good soundproofing in your guest room."

“Buck-” Steve warned, but another group of kids was coming for hot chocolate and Barnes managed to slip away through the crowd.

He meandered for a good twenty minutes. Barnes saved a tray of cupcakes from someone’s loose yippy dog – then fed the cute little rat a whole cheese-filled sausage to teach the owners a lesson about watching their pets. He accepted the challenge of three pre-pubescent boys to a bullseye competition with fuzzy balls and a velcro target. He refused to play badly, but he did manage to show the kid with coke-bottle glasses a few tricks so he came in a distant second. He helped Stan and Adrian – Steve’s neighbors from across the street – wrangle Princess _h__i__iiii__-Y__A_ away from a cutthroat bean bag toss so she could go home to bed. He didn’t mind too much when she left vividly grape-scented smears of purple lip gloss on his neck and metal arm. He kicked out a teenager who was trying to stir up trouble with a few kids of a similar age and gave his best _Soldier-is-watching_ stare to the others to get them to straighten up and fly right. It was no _Captain-is-disappointed_, but it got the job done.

_Unobstructed rooftop access, three o’clock position. Four hundred twenty-eight yards. Sixty-two degree down angle. Visual check: cleared. Follow up again with area Yinsen security patrol in ten minutes._

_Civilian. Juvenile. Approximate age, seven years. Vomiting imminent, basin required. Illness self-inflicted; non-fatal._

_Potential combatant. Female. Thirty-five. Mediterranean or Middle-Eastern. Muscle tone consistent with strength and flexibility training. Tattoo on inner wrist indicative of Zeev Rosenstein crime syndicate. Stance consistent with Danzan Ryu jujitsu training. Concealed weapon, ankle. Kahr CM9. Likely FBI. Warrants background check._

As he circled the party, he was always aware of Evelyn. When he couldn’t hear her over the wails of an exhausted child whose parents were coaxing him home, then he watched her in his peripheral as she rubbed the back of a little boy after he yakked up a half-pound of tootsie-rolls and M&Ms. If he couldn’t see her, he could hear her quickly-stifled laugh as she listened to a story about inter-organizational cooperation from a dark-haired woman whose broad hand gestures revealed a badge clipped to her belt under her Harry Potter robe. If he didn’t have a direct line of sight on Evelyn’s whiskey-gold ponytail, he could smell the faint trace of her buttery-chocolate lotion and cinnamon body scrub under the unfortunately strong stench of junior high boys trying to teach her to throw a bullseye.

He might have continued keeping his distance, seeing how long he could hold himself out of her orbit and walk the edge of pleasurable anticipatory denial, if he hadn’t noticed two of the boys staring at her ass. He didn’t blame them, exactly. He would have done the same at their age. Hell, he did the same in his mid-thirties. Or late nineties, depending on how you counted it. They were crossing territory from awestruck wonder into lewd hand motions, so he felt justified in stepping in to teach them some manners.

Or maybe he was just tired of self-denial and ready to hold her close.

“Jacob.” He nodded at the kid with coke-bottle glasses, interrupting his lesson to Evie on proper throwing form. She looked like an attentive student, despite his first-hand knowledge that she definitely didn’t need instruction.

“Mr. Barnes,” Jacob nodded back, then ruined it with an awkward wave. The other two boys snickered, causing Jacob to flush.

“I’m afraid Dr. Vivas is needed elsewhere,” he lied. Well, not lied, exactly. He seemed to need her more and more of late. All the time, really. Preferably somewhere secluded – and not solely for sex. Just to be with her. Although the sex was always, enthusiastically, welcome.

“Oh,” Jacob looked crestfallen.

“Suck it up, man,” one of his friends said. “Not like you were _getting_ anywhere.”

Jacob blushed harder. Barnes felt the mechanics in his arm shifting and resettling. _It is not okay to hit a kid,_ he reminded himself, _no matter how much they are asking for it._

“Do you think I could spare a couple of minutes for just one game?” Evelyn turned falsely wide eyes on him. They were large and dark in the October night. _Witchcraft_, he thought. She continued, “Jake,” the boy straightened at the new nickname, “has been trying really hard to teach me. We could make it fast, Sergeant? Two on two?” The dumbasses snickered again at ‘two on two’. Barnes was trying not to let his imagination get away from him; she rarely called him Sergeant anymore unless she was half-naked or on her way there.

“Your decision,” he said instead of popping either of the little jerks and pulling Evelyn into a dark corner in hopes she would use his rank again. “Mind if I watch?”

“Don’t be too hard on her technique, Mr. Barnes,” Jacob said nervously as he set up the balls, four for each team. “She’s never played this before and I’m probably not as good of a teacher as you.”

“Probably on her knees for _his_ lesson.”

The whisper was so quiet, there was no way anyone but him heard it over all the noise of the party – but Barnes made sure he met the eyes of the boy that had said it. In his day, a kid that age might have known what that insinuation meant – but he damn sure wouldn’t have said it out loud. Certainly not about a classy lady like Evelyn. If he or Stevie had ever let something half as crass slip their lips, they wouldn’t have been able to sit down for a week. A month, if his da had ever found out.

“I got faith in you, kid,” he managed past a clenched jaw. He spoke to Jacob, but never looked away from the foul-mouthed little shit. He almost wished Darcy hadn’t been working so hard to give him a more approachable image; the Winter Soldier would have inspired more closed mouths and pants-wetting. “Fifty bucks.” He pulled out his wallet and set a crisp bill on the table between the two teams’ balls. “Winning team gets it.”

“Hard to split a fifty,” Evelyn noted. She poked Jacob with her elbow lightly and nodded. “Fifty bucks and an autograph from the Soldier.” Barnes bit back a smile. Evelyn knew how rarely he attended signings – _never_ – and consequently how high Darcy had been selling his signed merchandise for.

“Done.” He shot a quick text to Darcy asking for a marker.

The boys lined up, all three off them eyeing the cash and talking quietly about the autograph. Darcy arrived with a marker just as Jacob finished explaining the rules to Evelyn.

“I’ll go first. If I hit a bullseye, I get to keep throwing, otherwise it’s their turn. Then you, then them, then me again. Okay? I’m not worried about winning or losing,” he said, despite obviously wanting to beat the other two boys and claim the prize. He straightened his shoulders and tried to sound nonchalant. “It’s just a game, so we should have fun.”

“Sounds good, Jake. I think I got it.” Evelyn patted his shoulder and stood back to give him room. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Jacob hit the outer ring for twenty-five points. Crumb No. 1 hit the edge of the board for five points.

“We should go again now,” his teammate insisted. “Since you guys got first throw.”

Jacob opened his mouth to object, but Evelyn coolly inserted, “If you want.”

Crumb No. Two hit the middle ring for fifty points and proceeded to perform a complicated and obnoxious celebration dance. Evelyn waited patiently for him to finish. When he grinned at her, she calmly grabbed her team’s remaining three balls, stepped back five paces, and nailed the bullseye in rapid succession.

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

Barnes wondered if he had ever before gotten semi-hard watching a woman decimate the egos of bratty punks. Surely he would have remembered that.

“Here Jake,” she was saying, handing over the money and reaching into Barnes’ back pocket for the marker. There was some gratuitous touching of his ass, but not enough to be noticed by anyone else. _Unfortunately_.

“You should take the cash – you were my instructor, after all.”

“Ah, well,” he stammered. Fifty bucks was still a lot for a kid, but he had obviously been looking forward to the autograph.

Barnes relished the opportunity to step in and sweeten the pot. “Tell you what. Since your team demonstrated such good sportsmanship,” One of the brats objected, but his friend quickly silenced him. “I’ll do an autograph for each of you.”

Jacob barely managed to stutter out a thank you and shake Evie’s hand before he raced away to show off his t-shirt, signed by the Soldier himself. The party was winding down, most of the parents were collecting younger children while older kids were busy texting on their phones – making plans to cause trouble or being warned to get their butts home. Barnes had a pretty good idea which category the two dirty Crumbs fell into.

_Not your problem_, he reminded himself.

Evelyn wrapped one arm around his waist, tucking the marker away with an unnecessary amount of fumbling for his pocket.

“Feel good about that, doll?” He murmured into her hair.

“I would say no, but my therapist says I shouldn’t lie to myself or others.”

“Hm. Probably good policy.”

She laughed. They stood side by side for a few minutes, watching Darcy and Steve wish neighbors good-bye. Tony and Pepper were the last to go, after Tony’s offer to pay a cleaning service to take care of the yard was refused – again – and Pepper insisted they personally pick up a bit.

“We should help.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, but didn’t move his hand from the warmth of her back under her jacket and tank top. Her skin was silky and made his fingers ache to stay.

“You know,” she said, turning so their chests were pressed together and she could look into his eyes. It was in his top ten favorite ways to hold her.

“Yeah?”

“You still owe me an autograph.”

“You want me to sign your shirt?” Barnes did not glance down at her chest. Hundreds of women had begged Steve and Sam for a specially placed signature – Barnes had even had a few requests himself. Never before had he had any desire to follow through.

“Not quite where I had in mind.” She leaned in close. In her tennis shoes she had to press up a bit to put her lips near his ear. On his ear, actually. Each syllable brushed against the outer edge and sent a shiver down his spine.

She was out of his arms before her words registered and he went from being uncomfortable in his jeans to extremely glad it was so dark in their corner of the yard.

“We should help clean up, first.” She said, reaching for a pile of used paper plates and looking at him with those dark honey eyes. His mouth was watering. His lips dry.

“Yeah.”


	3. Sugar High

**November 1, 2017**

“Still want that autograph, Evelyn?” Barnes followed her hips and the matching sway of her ponytail down the last step into Steve and Darcy’s basement. It had once been a one-bedroom apartment for Darcy, and retained its original front door below street level and a new entrance at the back to a covered patio and access to the backyard. It also had a queen size bed and a walk-in shower. A little small compared to what he was used to at the Tower, but he had spent nights in considerably worse. If his spotty memories of the place he had shared with Steve before the war were to be believed, he had talked his way under women’s skirts in considerably worse.

Evelyn glanced over her shoulder at him. Bits of glitter and pumpkin confetti were stuck to her collarbone and the edge of her jaw. Amber shards of light reflected off of them and highlighted the lingering golden tan of her skin and the dark honey of her eyes. She shrugged out of her denim jacket and hung it on a wall hook with the tiniest lift of the corner of her mouth.

“_M__i lengua es la pluma_,” he carefully repeated some of her words to him from earlier. His accent was less than perfect, and the Spanish still felt unfamiliar in his mouth, but it was worth the slight dissonance in his brain to say it. _My tongue is the pen._

Her pupils dilated. _Five millimeters. Unaccounted for by current lighting. Chemical reaction probable._ He could do better.

_Your skin is the paper_. “_Tu piel es el lienzo_,” he murmured, taking an extra half-step so that his chest pressed against her back. Her breathing sped up. The soft curl of her whiskey ponytail brushed across his bare skin.

“Sounds unsanitary.” Her voice was low and husky. Evelyn stepped through the bedroom and into the bathroom, pulling him along with a strong grip on his left wrist. “Sure you don’t want a notebook? Or I bet we could print out a photo.”

Barnes spun her around, lifting and trapping her on the counter with his own body. Her jeans were skin tight – a splotchy bleached mess she called acid wash. He cupped her knee with his flesh hand and smoothed up the warm column of her thigh until his thumb could rest in the crease between leg and hip. He took in the flat front of her jeans; if they were any skinnier he would have been able to trace the shape of her sex. Her pink tank top had pulled loose from the high waistband, leaving room for his left hand to slide up her back, kissing the valley of her spine with vibranium. Her breasts were high and firm, cleavage swelling in the scoop neck of her shirt and dusted haphazardly with orange and purple glitter. He couldn’t make out the press of her nipples. A carefully angled glance revealed she had worn a lined bra. A concession to the chill outside, no doubt, but he ached to feel her flesh tighten under his palm. Between his fingers. In his mouth.

Her left hand slipped under the edge of his leather jacket and his lips fell open at the first touch of deft fingers to the muscles of his lower back. Her right hand slowly rubbed up his metal arm. The heat of her seeped between the plates. She soothed a phantom ache; he would have sworn it was soaking directly into bones that had been cut away decades ago. Barnes examined her face. Wet, raspberry pink lips. Warm breath that smelled like cinnamon and apples and sugar. A flush of cheeks dotted with glitter. Dark, thick lashes framed eyes he wanted to drown in.

_Five point __three__ millimeters._ Not quite what he wanted for her. He wanted her on the edge.

“_No tengo tinta_.” _I have no ink_.

He gripped her hip more firmly, pulling her forward until she was barely seated and her legs were forced to split around him. Full frontal contact left him groaning and her eyes closed, head thrown back. His mouth found hers and he tasted the lingering sweet oil of her lip gloss, the fruity spice of cider, faint pumpkin, and the rich flavor that he had only ever found in her. Barnes had never had any idea that he could want to be inside someone – not just with his cock – but to want to wrap himself in another person until all he could see was her. Until all he could feel was her. Until his nose and mouth and ears weren’t good for anything but identifying Evelyn.

He jerked his head back sharply, the intensity of his desire – his longing – shaking him. He needed a moment, a single moment to center himself, distance himself, remind himself that he was not a part of her and that was for the best. That he would never belong with her like that, no matter how often she invited him into her bed. He would never belong _to_ her.

She didn’t deserve that. _Him_. He didn’t deserve even the desire for it. After so long on a leash, he shouldn’t _want_ to belong to anyone.

Evelyn had other ideas. She didn’t give him a moment, not even a breath apart from her before she was grinding her pelvis against his. Her firm heat derailed his train of thought even as she grasped the back of his neck and pressed up against him. With a warm breast against either cheek and Evelyn’s fingers threaded through his hair Barnes couldn’t spare a thought for what he _should_ want.

Her slim left hand forced its way down the back of his pants – grabbing a little too far between his cheeks to be anything but suggestive. A throb low in his gut was his only warning before pre-cum leaked from his cock, dampening his underwear uncomfortably. Barnes bit the inside of his cheek to gain focus and gently pulled his head away from her breasts. It was a goddamn shame to leave such a perfect spot, but he had a mission. He needed to concentrate on that instead of the rub of their skin together and the way the scent of her filled up empty, stupid, dangerous parts inside his brain. He need to focus on making Evelyn lose control so that he didn’t have to think about how his own control might already be gone.

Sending Steve a big fuck-you in the process was a bonus.

Barnes flipped the button open at the top of her jeans and pulled the zipper down slowly. Her fingertips dug into the meat of his ass and her eyelids drooped.

_Nothing to dip my pen in._ “_Nada en lo que sumergir mi pluma_,” he continued. A wide band of dusty pink lace wrapped low around her hips. He yanked hard, managing to get the stretchy denim down to the tops of her thighs, but no further. The panties had a diamond shape outlined with velvet edging around her mound, framing a neat triangle of dark blonde hair. A _small_, neat triangle. Much smaller than it had been the night before. So small – Barnes bit his cheek again – that he could clearly see plump lips and a bit of her clit pressing against the sheer material. As he stared, a damp spot grew on the cloth. He licked his lips and struggled to find the right words. The effort required from his useless, fried brain helped him to stay on task.

“_Sin tinta_.” _No ink._

He pressed the backs of his first two fingers against wet pink lace. Her body gave easily, as if it had been waiting just for him.

“_P__ero creo que encontré algo mejor_.” _But I think I found something better. _

He drew his knuckles up, parting her the smallest fraction until he could feel the slowly swelling pearl that would strip away her cool facade and leave him with only hot, raw Evelyn writhing around him.

“James,” she gasped, her eyes opening wide to meet his gaze.

_Five point eight millimeters._ He could do better.

He dropped to his knees, flipping off her white tennis shoes and socks and drawing her feet onto his lap. With his metal hand he gripped the seam of her jeans and pulled as slowly and carefully as he could make himself until every inch of gloriously smooth golden skin was revealed. She was gripping the edge of the counter hard enough to turn her knuckles white. The press of her toes bracing against his hip bones was sharp, almost painful, and sexy as hell.

Barnes ran his nose along the seam of her panties, smelling her buttery-chocolate lotion and the salt-tinged musk of arousal. His tongue flicked out, testing the texture of lace over bare flesh. Tasting the liquid there because of _him_.

“_C___ariño__,” she moaned.

He met her eyes past wet, pink panties, flushed, swollen pussy, and glittery, pert breasts. “Who should I make this out to, doll?”

*_M__i lengua es la pluma – __My tongue is the pen_

_Tu piel es el lienzo – _ _Your skin is the paper_

_No tengo tinta – _ _I have no ink_

_Nada en lo que sumergir mi pluma – _ _Nothing in which to dip my pen_

_Sin tinta. - _ _No ink_

_P_ _ero creo que encontré algo mejor – _ _But I think I found something better_

_C_ _ _ariño_ _ _ \- Darling_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize, again, for my weird posting error. Troublemaker and Spooky, Cold Medina have similarities (like naked super soldiers and BAMF women) but they weren't intended to be read simultaneously. That kind of time-hopping is confusing, even for me. Thanks for sticking with me.
> 
> After all, when you really think about it, if Bucky and Evie get interpersonal in a bathroom, but no one reads it, does it even happen?


	4. Tricky, Tricky, Tricky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, Biblioworm. You got in my head.

**November 1, 2017**

“Dude, you have got to chillax.” Darcy finished massaging the anti-stretch mark lotion into her belly and eyeballed Steve. He was flat on his back, eyes open and unfocused. Every thirty seconds or so he would flinch, grimace, or tense up like someone was poking at him with a burning match.

“Sorry.”

She watched him force his body to decompress. It was interesting, really. With an effort of will two-hundred fifty or so pounds of super soldier went from on-edge to languid. Steve’s skin, golden in the summer, was already fading to a more natural pale Irish. The freckles on his exposed shoulders stood out more vividly. As she climbed into bed, she could make out a new one on the edge of his hip bone, just above his soft pajama pants. She wondered how long it had been there. They tended to appear and fade in a matter of weeks; it was a byproduct of the serum, Steve had once told her.

If she hadn’t been absolutely exhausted after a day of work and then the party prep – and the party itself, and the cleanup – she would have been more eager to explore that freckle and see if it had any friends. Possibly under his pants. She reminded herself to look in the morning. For science.

“Thank you. I am about to fall into a comatose state over here. Like, seriously, if you wake up in the night and I am gnawing on your ear, double check that it is sexy time and not that I’ve turned into a brain-craving zombie. That could actual facts happen at this point. I’m that tired.” Dealing with Thor’s return, the sudden and urgent need for an interspecies diplomatic embassy, and the realization that just because alien refugees had landed did not mean she could call up her neighbors and cancel the Halloween party – security issues were a real bitch sometimes – had left Darcy stretched thin over the previous few days.

“Sorry, Sweetheart,” Steve apologized again, rolling on to his side to face her. “You want a backrub to help you fall asleep?”

“Ooooh.” Darcy felt the tight muscles in her back ease a bit just at the mention of a massage. “Yes, please.”

She shut off her light, leaving the room softly lit by Steve’s sconce and the skylight in the hallway. Steve eased her tank top up until it was rolled between her belly and breasts. His hands were warm. They were always warm, but on the ache in her lower back it felt heavenly. She groaned. He chuckled. Firm strokes of his thumbs dug into the tight spots and pulled tension down her spine and out over the tops of her hips. Her eyes fell closed, enjoying the heat of his body, the firm cradle of her mattress, the way his fingers slipped under the waistband of her sleep shorts to knead the top of her ass. She was hovering at the edge of sleep and mild arousal when he gave a full body twitch, his toes poking her calf uncomfortably.

“Ow! Steve?”

“Jesus, Buck,” he whispered under his breath, then louder. “Sorry, Darce. You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“Fracture. Maybe internal bleeding. I’ll probably be maimed for life. You’ll have to carry me everywhere. Death is imminent. Or, you know, I _might_ have a tiny bruise.” She rolled on her back so she could see his face. His mouth was scrunched up in worry and apology but his eyebrows were drawn together in irritation. Darcy knew those looks – she had just never seen them at the same time before. “Are you okay? Too much sugar or something? Is that even possible?”

“I’m fine. Sorry. Again.” Steve smiled and pulled the covers up over her, leaving his hand low on her belly. “Did I surprise the baby?”

“It’s all quiet on the southern front. Our fetus has been properly tuckered out with copious amounts of seven-layer dip and carbs. Should be a few hours at least before it decides to play kickball with my bladder.” Darcy looked Steve over carefully. Her leg had completely stopped hurting and her eyes were getting heavier under the warmth of the blankets and the heat of Steve’s hand. “You ever play kickball when you were a kid? Or...strictly a...a stick...ball...”

She jerked awake when Steve blew a hard breath into her ear.

“Christ almighty.”

“What? What!” Darcy flailed, smacking Steve in the face with the back of her hand. It took a moment to remember where she was, and to realize that she couldn’t have been out very long. Her body _yearned_ for sleep. Her mind yearned to smother her gorgeous boyfriend with a pillow so she could get it. “What the hell, Steve?”

“Darcy, I’m so-” His blue eyes widened and he cut himself off. “Goddamn it, Buck,” he swore. “A pervert and a show off. Asshole.”

“Okay. I’m awake now. I really, really don’t want to be, but I am. What the hell is the problem?”

“It’s- I mean...” Steve’s gaze slid to the side even as he slowly rubbed her belly. Darcy squinted. Her exhausted eyes felt like they had been dipped in sand and air dried. Even with that and a lack of glasses she could still make out the pink flush creeping up his neck.

“Out with it, Steven.” She tried to sound stern, but she was honestly too tired to be overly mad.

“Buck’s screwing Evie six ways to Sunday,” Steve blurted.

Darcy paused for a minute, thinking that through. “Well, one: duh. They’re both gorgeous people in their prime. I mean, honestly, I would join in on that if I didn’t have all of this,” she waved a hand at Steve’s everything, “at my disposal. Have you seen them? Evie is a smart, athletic, _blonde_ Latina. Any Jimmy is the dark and dangerous to your sun kissed goodness. Handsome all over. If you get senile in your old age I am totally jumping into that _caliente_ sandwich.”

“Darcy.” Steve sounded physically pained by the idea.

“And two: why are you even thinking about that? I know I’m hard to resist with my wet hair and freshly greased baby-tumor, but we had sex less than twenty-four hours ago and I really feel that you should be able to contain you imagination to-”

“I can hear them,” he interrupted. “Through the vents. He’s not even trying to be quiet.”

“You can hear James Barnes’s orgasm right now?”

Steve flopped back onto his pillow and threw an arm over his face. “God no. And he’s doing it on purpose – he did before once. I made fun of how he had panted after this dancer from the...nevermind. But then he brought her home and spent a good two hours at it until she was too hoarse to bother the neighbors anymore. Next morning he was all smiles and lies to Mrs. Fellite downstairs about how I’d been sick and having fever dreams – causin’ all that racket. The dame had to beg off work for three days.” Steve snorted. What Darcy could see of his face under his arm was red.

“That asshole got back at me by makin’ me listen to all that. And now he’s pissed I teased him about Evie. He goddamn well knows I can hear him and he’s-” Steve hissed, sitting up in bed and glaring at the staircase. “Is he trying to make her pass out?”

“Question.” Darcy raised her hand, much more awake than she had been. “Are you telling me that my favorite pre-war brunet is edging his girlfriend in order to teach you a lesson about sticking your nose in his business?”

“Well, probably less edging than...” Steve cocked his head to the side and winced. “Multiple orgasms, but yeah.”

“In your own house?” Darcy didn’t wait for a response. “In _my_ own house? Oh, that’s it. It is so fucking on right now.” She rolled out of bed and struggled with her tank top for a moment. Once she had it over her head she realized Steve was still lying on his back – staring at her with his mouth open. He licked his lips.

“Take off your pants, Steven,” Darcy growled, proceeding to remove her own shorts. “No one out orgasms me in my own house.”


	5. I'll Take 'Things That Go Bump In the Night' for $800, Alex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Hope! She took up my challenge/request and I really appreciate it. 
> 
> And now, on to more of one of my top five favorite couples...

**November 1, 2017**

"He's doing this on purpose," James muttered.

"That doesn't sound like something Steve would do," Evelyn replied without opening her eyes.

She was already feeling languid and boneless and not really in the mood to soothe James' ruffled feathers. If he hadn’t been so determined to see how many times he could make her orgasm – three, not their record, but still pretty damn good – she would have spent longer soothing other parts of James. Not that he had seemed to mind. By the time he had backed off enough for her to take the reigns, he had been far enough gone that the scrape of her nails against his scalp, a few good kegels, and some dirty language had tipped him right over. Evie was rather proud of how long it had taken him to recover use of language skills.

He snorted, "You just don't - Holy Mary Mother of God!" James flinched hard enough the bed moved then glared at the ceiling._ “___Sobirayus' prognat' yeye pryamo cherez krovat'.__ Your girl is pregnant, you no-good punk.” He followed up the observation with several suggestions as to what Steve should be doing to himself in that moment.

Evie was happily aware of the flexibility and stamina of super soldiers, but she doubted Steve was physically capable of “wetting his own twig and berries and seeing how it feels to choke on it”.

Resigned, she sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. She couldn't hear anything but the soft current of air from the furnace and the whir of his metal arm where he was gripping the mattress. Whatever it was that James was listening to had his face scrunched up like he had taken a mouthful of habanero.

That or he had heard Darcy demonstrating how to suppress a gag reflex.

Evie reached for her phone. "White noise. I have an app for it."

"Sure."

She could feel his eyes on the side of her face. The app had cost five dollars, but it was worth it for the sheer variety. No one liked to listen to the sounds of a hotel hallway or other airplane passengers. With it, Evie had been able to sleep just about anywhere – before HYDRA. She added quiet surf and gentle rain to wind and hit play. James was still watching her.

_ "Que, _ ** _c_ ** _ _ariño_ _ _ ?" _

He didn’t move, but Evie could feel the shift in his attention. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled in a way that said a predator was nearby. James had eaten her enough for one evening. A woman needed sleep – and he needed to focus more on accepting pleasure rather than giving it all of the time.

"Probably it would be better if Stevie just learned a lesson. Had a taste of his own medi-"

"It is after two. I am not having sex again just so your idiot best friend can hear it. Especially not for that." If James could hear Steve then Steve had definitely heard them earlier. Evie pointedly did not mention that she was now aware James had been enacting a bit of exhibitionism earlier with the sinfully enjoyable cunnilingus on the bathroom counter. The extremely attentive fingering and washing in the shower. The combination of mouth and fingers and cool vibranium in the bedroom.

She wasn’t an idiot.

His face went blank and he deflated back into his pillows as if he expected retribution. He should have asked first, Evie thought with a purposefully neutral face. __Lo hubiera hecho de todos modos. Más fuerte.__

"No. You're right. Sorry. That was-"

"However...I think I can pencil you in for the morning. How does eight sound?" Evelyn raised one brow and tried to keep her smile contained. "Steve should be back from his run and starting breakfast by then."

It seemed to take James a moment to get her meaning, and then another moment to realize she had no problem with putting on a sound-only show for their friends. All in the name of friendly teasing, of course. Friendly teasing, and her determination to stretch out James’ pleasure as long as possible the next time. Turnabout was fair play.

"Evelyn Vivas," Barnes whispered in a low voice that never failed to make her thighs clench, "I ever told you I like the way you think?"

_ _* Sobirayus' prognat' yeye pryamo cherez krovat'. - _ _ _ _Going to drive her right through the bed._ _

_ _Lo hubiera hecho de todos modos. Más fuerte.- I would have done it anyway. Louder._ _


	6. Those Weren't My Eggs, Officer, I Swear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never look a gift horse in the mouth, alternatively titled: In Which Darcy Learns A Valuable Lesson.

**November 1, 2017**

“Thanks for taking Darcy in to work today. I really need to head upstate and check in with Thor.”

Bucky snorted. “Check in with Natasha more like. I’m a little surprised we haven’t already gotten a call about a pair of giant green balls being cut off and thrown into the lake.”

“Nat wouldn’t do that,” Steve protested. He finished folding up the last of the tables from the party and shrugged. “She knows how much Clint’s kids like to swim in the lake.”

“Yeah, still. From what you’ve said, Hulk had trouble with following orders even when he was on your team. And from personal experience, when he’s pissed he packs a whallop no matter whose side you’re on. Watch your back out there. Maybe even take Wilson – he could use the training.” Bucky sipped his coffee, watching the surrounding buildings and not lifting a finger to help Steve stack the tables by the back fence. Not that Steve needed help, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Hey,” Steve tossed a heavy box of linens at Buck’s head. He caught it, one-handed, but some of his coffee sloshed out.

“Fuckin’ punk,” Bucky muttered.

“Show some manners to your host, jerk,” Steve grinned. “So,” he started as nonchalantly as possible once they were both carrying more rental stuff, “the Winter Soldier fought the Hulk?”

Bucky shook his head. “Not really. I was there for back up, in...not sure when. Or where. A jungle. The team that was supposed to take him just pissed him off. Damn near took a tree to the face before my handler ordered a retreat. Guess HYDRA decided Hulk was more trouble than he was worth.”

“Huh. Wonder if Bruce remembers that?”

“Wonder if Bruce is in there at all.”

They both fell silent for a moment. It was a sobering thought. In the few days they had been at the upstate facility since Thor had landed, Steve had not seen any hint that Bruce was going to come back anytime soon. Thor had stated that Bruce hadn’t thought he would be able to reverse his transformation. Valkyrie had loudly wondered why anyone would want Hulk to be different. The big guy knew the team, with the exception of Scott, and while his vocabulary and thought processes seemed to have expanded since Steve had last seen him, he was still very distinctly separate from Bruce.

“What do you think of Valkyrie?” Steve tried to shift away from questions he couldn’t answer and wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Bucky’s voice and expression went flat. “Strength, dexterity, and endurance exceeding human capabilities. Strength comparable to serum enhanced humans but estimated lessor than vibranium arm. Martial training unknown but likely superior with melee weapons. Ranged weapon accuracy limited. Eyesight and hearing equal to or less than serum enhanced humans. Extensive vehicle familiarity, including flight and space-flight capability. Weaknesses include propensity for drink. Improperly healed hip flexor tear resulting in significant internal scar tissue and six percent reduced range of motion. Emotional and cultural ties to Thor and Dr. Jane Foster. Threat elimination highest success with long range ballistics.”

Steve repressed a flinch at Bucky’s delivery. It never failed to make his stomach clench when his friend assessed potential threats that way. During the war, Buck might have made much the same call – but the way he had said it, the calculated note that hurting tiny Jane Foster could give Valkyrie’s attacker an advantage, that was a product of the Winter Soldier. Steve took a deep breath to settle all of the emotions that came with a reminder of what James Buchannan Barnes had endured, and ways he was forever altered.

“So you’re saying you could take her?”

Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes, his shoulders dropping back into the stance of Steve’s oldest friend. Not relaxed. Just less tense.

“Rather not tangle with that, thanks anyhow. That one fights dirty.”

“You always liked a dirty fight.”

“I ain’t the one that put a mitten full of rocks in my pocket and used it to break Tommy Fellite’s cheekbone.”

“You remember that?” Steve stopped in his tracks and stared, feeling the smile twitching on his face but unwilling to do anything about it.

“Hard to forget, although it kind of blends together with all the other dumb shit you did. Still do. Never met anybody who liked to throw out a challenge like Steve Rogers.”

They stacked the last of the rented party supplies together for pick up and Steve nudged Buck’s metal arm on the way back to the house. Bucky managed to keep his coffee from spilling again, but when he glared at Steve, Steve motioned toward the kitchen windows. Darcy was there, looking soft and sleepy and sweeter than a whole bag of Halloween candy. She leaned across the table toward Evie, who appeared just as classically elegant in a sweater and jeans as she did in her skirts and heels. There was a pink flush to her cheeks, a glowing sort of look that Darcy also had. Steve was happily aware of how that glow got there.

“I think you were the one making challenges last night, Buck.”

“Shut your mouth, Rogers. I would never make light of a lady’s affections.” Bucky took a last swig of coffee, then pushed past Steve, hard, so he could go up the stairs first. “And don’t tell me it didn’t work out well for you.”

Steve grinned. It had. It really, really had.

_ * * * _

Darcy savagely bit into her bacon, narrowing her eyes at Evie. Evie who was freshly showered, practically glowing post-orgasm, and neatly dressed in jeans and a fitted cashmere sweater. Darcy, seated across the table, was sporting yoga pants, a wrinkled plaid shirt, and sex hair. A tangled dark curl fell into her eye.

"Okay," she managed calmly even as she shoved the offending hair back into her messy bun. "How did you do this?" She waved in Evie's general direction with the remains of her bacon, then lowered her voice. "Steve swore to my left boob he could hear you two going at it not thirty minutes ago. How did you finish up and get beautiful so fast?"

Evie took a sip of coffee and counted off on her fingers. "One, thank you. Two, my cousin sent me a face wash that exfoliates - I just had to use a tinted moisturizer this morning. Three, _pobrecita,_ it is called the prostate." Darcy's mouth fell open. "Test it out, make it your friend. Four," Evie winked as the sound of boots on the deck outside the kitchen announced Steve and Bucky were returning. "You look beautiful, too, _chica._ Positively...dewy."

"Oh, that's just-"

Bucky whistled as he opened the back door, heading for the coffee pot with his empty cup. Steve followed him in, shutting out the October chill and approaching Darcy for a morning kiss. Again.

"We are doing lunch," Darcy ordered Evie as she tilted her face up for Steve's lips. "You and me. A long lunch."

_ pobrecita – poor dear (said with sarcasm, e.g. ‘you poor thing, however do you manage?!’ ) _

_ chica - girl _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all, so much, for your comments, your suggestions, your prompts and ideas. You make me eager to write every day.

**Author's Note:**

> I have this Halloween story completed, and I will finish posting it before Halloween, but if you want to binge it, check out my website for ways to make me ignore real, paying work to spend time on something more fun. ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoy US!


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